


Control

by st_mick



Series: Niffler [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Torchwood
Genre: Ianto's taking a break, M/M, Poor Cerridwen will need a vacation, Powerful magic - but it's complicated, Professor McGonagall wants to talk, Unstable animagus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 03:39:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_mick/pseuds/st_mick
Summary: In the wake of what happened with Jack, Ianto is taking some time to himself.  He is quick to realize that it was the loss of control and feelings of helplessness that fueled his reaction.  He allows himself to remember moments of being powerless and hears a puzzling prophecy.  And Professor McGonagall wants to talk about his magic...





	Control

Ianto was gone for another ten days.  During that time he continued to stay at the Hog’s Head, though Aberforth was behaving rather like a mother hen.  It was a bit alarming, actually.  Each morning, Ianto would descend the stairs – Aberforth was all for giving his guests their privacy, but he did want to know whether they were on the premises, or not, so it was considered impolite to disapparate from one’s room.  Ianto always left the inn before he left Hogsmeade.

From the first day Ianto bothered to leave his room for more than a quick meal and another exceptionally strong sleeping potion, Aberforth would chivvy him over to one of the tables before bustling off.  He was never there to notice Ianto’s grimace as he took a seat, but would quickly return with porridge, eggs on toast, or even a full Scottish breakfast. 

Before Ianto could leave, Aberforth would hand him a packed lunch, as well.  Ianto was confused until he caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows before apparating away.  He looked pale and gaunt and… unwell.  Despite the copious amounts of sleep he’d been getting, he had dark circles under his eyes, which were red-rimmed and bloodshot. 

Physically, he felt fine.  Still quite sore, and he was thankful he’d packed a scarf to cover the love bites that still showed above his collar, but fine.  Emotionally, he felt gutted.  He spent day after day perched on an outcrop on the highest perch he could find in the Cairngorms.  It was a wild, beautiful area, and he was able to find some peace in the solitude as he sorted through his feelings.

He knew he and Jack would be all right.  It might take some time for them to trust themselves with one another again, but they would get there.  He knew he still trusted Jack, as counterintuitive as it might seem.  Yes, Jack had hurt him.  But he knew in his soul that Jack would have stopped, if Ianto had followed their rules.  That wasn’t what had wrecked him.

It was that he had not been able to fight back.  That feeling of helplessness as Jack’s weight advantage and leverage had immobilized Ianto had panicked him.  It had broken that tenuous hold Ianto had on feeling in control of any part of his life.

Ianto knew control was an illusion.  He did.  But the feeling that some things were within his power – even if it was as simple as how neat his flat was or how organized the archives were – helped him to feel… safe.  He realized that safety was a relative quantity, in his life, but he usually associated lack of safety with too much adrenaline, not day-to-day living. 

But being helpless, powerless… that was Ianto’s kryptonite.  It was the absolute worst feeling he had ever experienced.  It was the reason he detested body bind spells and curses.  Had this… thing with Jack happened before the Pharm, he would not have understood the magnitude of his reaction.  But now…  Well.  The most powerless he had ever been in his life was when he was defenseless and at the mercy of a mad sadist who had enjoyed his pain. 

And then there’d been the battle…  It was not lost on Ianto that his experience with Bellatrix LeStrange closely mirrored Jack’s experience with the Master, though Ianto was loathe to compare the two.  He marveled at Jack’s resilience.  Forty-five minutes had almost driven Ianto mad.  Jack had endured a year.  It was mind boggling.  And Ianto was still dealing with the repercussions of those forty-five minutes. 

The newly remembered ordeal and the aftershocks that had accompanied it were still too fresh, too raw for him to have taken this all in stride.  But knowing, remembering, did return some of his power to him.  He knew he was not entirely helpless. 

It was a Tuesday afternoon when he went to Hogwarts.  He spoke to Professor McGonagall, letting her know he wished to roam the grounds.  She eyed him shrewdly.  “And what has brought on this bout of nostalgia, Mr. Jones?”

Ianto shrugged.  “Just trying to let the memories settle, now that they’re all back.”

She nodded.  “Be careful, Ianto.  I would tell you not to enter the forest alone, but I know there’s no point in that.  Would you join me for tea when you come back, though?  I would very much like to be sure you’re all right.”

Ianto smiled.  “I’ll be fine, Professor.  Perhaps tea tomorrow, though?  I may not be fit for company, after.”

She nodded.  She would know from Aberforth if Ianto was unwell.  Her old friend had let her know almost as soon as Ianto had arrived.  She was hoping his time and rest would be beneficial, but he looked dreadful.  He hadn’t shaved in a week, so he had almost a full beard, which only highlighted the dark circles under his eyes and his pallid complexion.  And she knew from Aberforth that Ianto was barely eating.  A few bites at breakfast and dinner, and he brought back his packed lunch every day, untouched.

“Very well, Mr. Jones.  Enjoy the grounds, and let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Ianto wandered the grounds for a while before he got up the nerve to find the spot where he’d fallen from his broom.  From there, he made his way through the forest.  It was a fairly clear path.  When he came to the clearing, he stopped.  It was actually quite a lovely spot. 

A bird call startled him, and quickly began to sound like the hysterical laughter of a mad woman.  Ianto looked around, feeling his heart kick in his chest and begin beating faster.  He heard the laughter of others, then saw her face.  The memory overwhelmed him, and he fell to the ground in the precise spot he had been when enduring Bellatrix LeStrange’s _cruciatus_ curse.

Ianto couldn’t be sure how long the panic attack lasted, but as he calmed, he felt as though something had been released.  He felt a loosening of the knots that had formed in his chest during the encounter with Jack in the hub the previous week.

“Your magic is exceptionally strong, but it lacks an effective anchor,” a deep, somber voice intoned.

Ianto recognized that voice.  He sat up, wiping his eyes.  “Hello, Professor Firenze,” he said.

“I am no longer a professor, and you were not one of my students,” Firenze pointed out.  “Please, call me Firenze.”

“Thank you,” Ianto nodded.  “What about my magic?”

“In your distress, you must not have noticed, but what brought me here was a sizable lightning strike.  But it was ground to cloud, which is very rare, and, as it turns out, it was not a weather event.  Your magic is not properly anchored.”  Firenze stared at Ianto.  “Something in childhood, and then a curse caused it to come unmoored.”  He stared some more.  “Though there was a small anchoring, in the recent past.”

“I thought you read portents of the future, not the past,” Ianto chided, smiling.  “And even then, nothing so inconsequential as a single, insignificant wizard could catch the attention of the centaurs.”

“That is normally true,” the centaur replied.  “But there is something of the stars that will influence you, and you shall, in turn, have your influence upon them.  It will begin with the unconventional anchoring of your magic, sometime in the near future.  I see… time.”  Firenze shook his head.  “But I have forgotten what I learned during my time with humans.  Are you well?  You seemed to be in a great deal of distress.”

“I’m all right,” Ianto replied, surprised to find that it was not merely the usual polite lie.

“A’right, Firenze?” a familiar voice boomed.  “Who’re ya talking to?”

“It is the one who was here, before,” Firenze stated.

Hagrid came into view and looked down.  “Ianto!  Are you alright?” he looked around the clearing and then back at Ianto, his eyes wide and concerned.

“I’m alright, Hagrid.  I was just… remembering.”

“Harry said you remembered.  But why come here?”  Hagrid shivered.  “It was a terrible thing, Ianto, and I’m sorry for it.  I’m sorry I couldn’t stop ‘em.”

Ianto smiled at Hagrid.  “Wasn’t your fault.  And yes, it was terrible.  But I think…  I think it’s better, now I remember.  I know it is, actually.  I guess I was just… putting it to rest.”

Firenze nodded.

Hagrid gave a slow nod, as well, though he still looked troubled.  “How ‘bout we get out of here, though, eh?  It’s getting’ dark, soon.”  He reached down and lifted Ianto, setting him on his feet.

Ianto felt clear, but shaky.  He shook Firenze’s hand before he and Hagrid left the forest.  Hagrid walked to Hogsmeade with him, and then joined him for dinner.  Once they ate, Ianto wished his old friend good night and ascended the stairs to his room, hoping Cerridwen had arrived with another letter.

His owl would likely need a vacation, once he returned to Cardiff.  The poor dear had been making round trips from Hogsmeade to Cardiff every day as Jack and Ianto exchanged letters.  Their correspondence had helped to settle both of them, and bring them closer together.  He smiled when he saw her on the wardrobe.  He could almost hear a long-suffering sigh as she held out her leg for him to detach the letter.  He chuckled and gave her a treat as he opened the letter.

He smiled and frowned and smiled some more as he read the contents.  He was almost glad of this time apart, if for no other reason than he had not realized Jack’s talent for writing such beautiful letters.  He had written so much more than he’d normally been willing to say, and Ianto could not regret it.

Still smiling, he sat down to pen a reply.  He and Jack had been sharing details of their days and hashing out their feelings about what had happened.  The day before, he had shared his feeling that his reaction was about how powerless he’d felt, in those moments with Jack.  Jack’s reply had been kind and supportive, though still guilt-ridden.  Ianto tried once more to set Jack’s mind at ease, and he went on to describe his walk in the forest.

The letter ended up being longer than he had anticipated, but he was pleased with the result.  He attached it to Cerridwen’s leg, admonishing her, “You be sure you’re well rested before you head out, you hear?”  She gave him a friendly nip and tucked her beak under her wing to have a nap before flying.

The next day, he had tea with Professor McGonagall, as promised.  She was pleased that he looked a bit better than he had, the day before.  Hagrid had reported back to her that he had found him in the clearing, looking a bit worse for wear and conversing with Firenze.  She had taken it as a good sign that he’d been up for Hagrid’s company for his evening meal, though even Hagrid had noticed he hadn’t eaten much.

They had an enjoyable conversation, though she found Ianto to be as evasive as ever on certain topics.  She did hope someday she could get him to speak with her, about one thing, in particular.  He had put far too much work into it to just abandon it as a lost cause.  But she could see that today was not the day.

After enjoying a lovely pot of tea, she invited him to join them for dinner.  She knew Neville would enjoy seeing Ianto.  She was well pleased that Professor Longbottom was well on his way to completing his first year teaching Herbology.  He had been the logical choice to replace Professor Sprout after her retirement, and it was working out very well, indeed.

Ianto accepted her invitation and had an enjoyable meal, though he did not enjoy being the subject of the whispers along the house tables in the Great Hall.  Apparently the excitement of having an Auror present was compounded when word got around that he was the Auror who was assigned to Torchwood.  Perhaps Torchwood not being a secret in the wizarding world was not quite as convenient as he’d thought.  It likely didn’t help that he was wearing muggle clothing, rather than robes.

After dinner, Neville showed him the improvements he was making to the greenhouses.  “You were doing so well the day of the quidditch match, but it seems like you’re struggling, now.  Do you want to talk about it?”

Ianto sighed.  “There was a case.  Sort of.  Jack and I disagreed about it.  And there was some… fallout from how it turned out.”  He hoped that was enough to give the gist of it, because certain things between him and Jack would always be completely private.

“Well that’s not cryptic, at all,” Neville said with a lopsided smile.  But his eyes were sad.  “Hit a nerve, the case.  Didn’t it?”

Ianto nodded.  “I… experienced a moment of complete powerlessness and it…” he didn’t finish.

“I can see where that could hit you pretty hard, especially so soon after remembering.  And then having a disagreement with Jack… bad timing, that.”  Neville hesitated.  “You two okay?  It’s just… it seems like he’d be here for you, or you’d be there, letting him be there for you.”

Ianto gave a small smile.  “We’ll be all right.  Poor Cerridwen is overworked this week, but I think this has given us an opportunity to speak in a way we haven’t, before.”

“Is it true he can’t die?”

Ianto shook his head.  “He dies, but he comes back.  He can’t stay dead.  It’s… it’s the worst curse I can imagine.  He’ll watch everyone he loves wither and die, pretty much forever.”

Neville shuddered.  “But it must be tough for you too, Nif.  You’ll age, but he won’t.”

Ianto shrugged.  “I don’t care.  If he doesn’t mind, I don’t.  I…” he sighed.  “I haven’t dwelled on it very much, honestly.  Until recently I was convinced it didn’t matter, anyway.”

“Because you thought you wouldn’t make it to thirty?”

“Pretty much.”

“Has that gotten better?”

“Think so,” Ianto shrugged again.  “I’m trying to be patient, let everything settle, but it’s taking ages, it seems like.”

Neville nodded.  He decided to change the subject.  “So is it true, you apparated into a freefall?”

“Don’t you start,” Ianto groused.

“Not a word.  Well, maybe one… wow…” he shook his head.

“Is that a ‘wow’, you are in awe of my skills in apparition, or a ‘wow’, you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes.”

Ianto sighed.  “That’s as may be.  But I couldn’t not try.  She was so scared, Neville.”  He shut his eyes and took a breath, trying to shake the regret.

“Hey, you tried.  That’s why we love you, Nif.”

Ianto tried to smile.

***

The rest of the week passed quietly, with Ianto rambling around the countryside and perching on the sides of mountains and gradually regaining his equilibrium.  His appetite was slow to return, and his first decent meal (by Aberforth’s standards) was that Friday night.

The letters to and from Jack had gone a long way to mending their bruised relationship, and Ianto had considered going back to Cardiff earlier than he had said, but he knew he needed the time to himself. 

Professor McGonagall invited him for lunch on Saturday.  Neville and Hagrid joined them.  She had decided that if he seemed better, she would bring up a subject she had wished to discuss with him, for several years, now.  Upon seeing him, she knew that this was the day.

Ianto looked well rested, and there was some color in his complexion.  Though he would always be naturally pale, he no longer had a sickly pallor.  The dark circles under his eyes had receded, and those lovely blue eyes looked much brighter and clearer than they had, earlier in the week.  He had lost weight, but he seemed to have a good appetite at lunch. 

All of these observations led her to broach a new topic as they finished their lunch.  “Mr. Jones, I’ve been hoping to speak with you about your animagus,” she began, figuring bluntness would be best.

Ianto leaned back from the table and sighed.  He had been avoiding this for years.  He supposed, for his sins, he should go ahead and let her ask her questions.  “It might be helpful if you tell me what you know, already,” he said.

She blinked, surprised that he had capitulated without an argument.  “Well, I know you went through the entire process, and I must congratulate your diligence and patience.  I know exactly how arduous the process is.  And I know that the form was… unstable.”

Ianto shrugged.  “There you have it, then.”  He wasn’t bitter so much as deeply disappointed in himself.  Perhaps if he had been a better wizard, his animagus wouldn’t be completely useless.  Not to mention agonizing…

Something of his thoughts must have shown, because Professor McGonagall spoke kindly.  “It is not a reflection on the wizard, if the process does not go smoothly.”  At Ianto’s snort, she added, “I am not one for empty platitudes, Mr. Jones, so don’t take that dismissive attitude, with me.”

“I apologize,” he said, looking contrite.  “I just… I can’t figure out what went wrong.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking,” she replied.  “What if nothing went wrong?”

“If you endure such agony when you transform, then maybe the whole thing is best forgotten.”

“Ah, so it’s painful?  I was not aware of that.  I am sorry.  I wish Kingsley had called me in to consult.  I have a lot of experience with mentoring new animagi.  But that’s neither here nor there.  What I meant was, perhaps you did everything perfectly, but something was blocking the animagus form.  Given what we have recently found out…” she looked at him, expecting him to do his own math, as always.

“You think the _obliviate_ spell may have blocked it?”

“It’s possible.  Are you willing to try it now?”

Ianto nodded.  The four found an empty classroom, and Ianto stood before Professor McGonagall.  “Here goes,” he said, feeling a bit nervous.  He closed his eyes and found the place inside, so long neglected, and transformed. 

Professor McGonagall found herself facing a grey cougar.  The tips of its ears and the end of its tail were black.  Its eyes were the same Ianto shade of blue.  He seemed almost pleased as he sat there for several minutes, but then there was some sort of… flare.  The form expanded and contracted almost instantaneously before Ianto transformed back into his human form.

“Damn it,” he growled, holding his head and landing hard on his rear end.  Great, he grimaced, thinking it was patently unfair to bruise his arse just when it had finally stopped being sore.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand and healed whatever bruises he may have acquired.  Then she conjured a thick, soft carpet and a great number of pillows and cushions.  She sat in front of Ianto.  Hagrid and Neville sat, as well.  “I can see why you called it agony.  I am sorry,” she said.  “But for a few moments, it seemed stable.  Did it feel any different?”

Ianto nodded.  “It did.  It felt more stable, right up until it didn’t.”

“It’s a cougar, just like your patronus,” Neville said.  He conjured a book.  “Let’s see what it says about cougars.”  He was silent for a few moments, and smiled as he read.  “Well, this it you, all right.  Standing behind convictions, clever, steadfast, dependable, courageous.”  He chuckled.  “Jack will like this – sensuality, enigma.  Patience, wisdom,” his smile faded.  “Solitude.  Secret dimensions.  Primal power.”  Neville looked up from the book.  “That’s quite a list...”  He gave himself a shake and grinned.  “I’m a bit disappointed it’s not a niffler, though.”

Ianto rolled his eyes.  “I’d never hear the end of that, would I?”

“It is rare, though not unheard of, for a patronus or animagus to be a magical creature,” Professor McGonagall said.  “I am interested to know if you felt anything before that flare that disrupted the form.”

“It felt pretty good, but then it felt like something was… missing.  As I tried to think what I might have forgotten, it happened.”

“Professor, did you see what it changed into, when it flared?” Hagrid asked, frowning.

“No, it happened too quickly.”  She looked at Neville, who also shook his head.

Hagrid was hesitant to say anything.  He thought better of mentioning what he had seen, so he plowed ahead, having an idea.  “It seems like,” he hesitated, trying to pull his thoughts together.  “It seems like maybe all of yer magic isn’t transformin’, with the rest of you.  So when most of yer magic transforms, you’re a cougar.  But you’d be something else, if all of yer magic transformed.  And no witch or wizard can stand to not have all of their magic with ‘em, so by instinct you reach for the rest, and that’s when it tries to be… the something else.”

“But what could be blocking his magic, keeping it from transforming?” Neville asked as Professor McGonagall looked thoughtful.  “And what is stopping it from being the something else, when he reaches for it?”

Hagrid shrugged.  “Firenze told him the other day he ‘as a lot of magic, but it’s not anchored properly.  Maybe that’s it.”

“Hagrid,” Professor McGonagall was looking at him, impressed.  “I believe you’re on to something, there.  That really is quite brilliant.”

Hagrid smiled.

Neville frowned.  “But why isn’t his magic anchored – what could cause that?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ianto interjected, not wishing to open _that_ discussion. 

“Hey, what about your patronus?  If it changed too, maybe we can tell from that,” Neville suggested.

Ianto pulled out his wand and performed the spell.  Out of the end of his wand, a cougar appeared before flaring and growing before fading.  “Looks like the same issue,” Ianto said.  He looked thoughtful for a moment.  “What if I transform, and consciously don’t reach for whatever part of my magic that doesn’t come along?  Would you be able to find anything out, from that?”

Professor McGonagall nodded.  “I believe I could.”

“Okay,” Ianto closed his eyes and transformed.

The cougar sat before them, very still.  His eyes were closed in concentration as Professor McGonagall did several incantations and spells.  After about ten minutes, she sighed, having learned rather more than perhaps Ianto had wished for her to.  “Okay, Mr. Jones, you may transform back.”

Ianto’s return to human form was slow enough that Neville had time to move to his side and catch him when he fell over.  Trembling, Ianto buried his face in the crook of Neville’s neck and mumbled, “Nap.”  It had taken all of his strength and energy to fight his instincts and refrain from reaching for the rest of his magic.  And not having all of it hurt like hell.

“Hagrid, please find a student and have them go to Poppy and have her bring us a rejuvenating potion.”  She looked at Ianto.  “Mr. Jones, are you all right?”

“Hurts,” he muttered.

“How?”

He sighed.  “You know pins and needles, like when your foot falls ‘sleep?”  At her affirmative, he said, “Like that, but more… sparky.  Sharper.  Harder.”  He shifted his face, almost nuzzling Neville’s neck.  “You smell good, Neville, but I miss Jack.”

Professor McGonagall suppressed a smile as Neville chuckled.  “Sorry to disappoint, Nif, but I’m not attracted to men.”

“Mmm.  Me neither,” Ianto said sleepily.

“Umm, does your boyfriend know that?”

“Not my boyfriend.  ‘m not attracted to men.  Jus’ want Jack,” Ianto sighed.

“Well, I guess that explains that,” Neville was frowning at his friend.  Then he grinned at Professor McGonagall.  “Anything you want to know?  Seems he’ll answer any question, at the moment.”

“We shall not take advantage, Mr. Longbottom,” she smiled. 

“You don’t think?” Neville grinned.  He adjusted Ianto so he was resting against him less awkwardly.  “Hey, Nif?”

“Hmm?”

“Mr. Longbottom…”

“Did you take something else besides the time turner from the Department of Mysteries?”

Ianto gave a wicked chuckle.  “Jack asked me the same thing.”

“And your answer was?”

“Mmm.  Don’t remember.”

“Nif, why isn’t Jack your boyfriend?”  That was really bothering Neville.

“’e doesn’t like labels.”

“But you’re together…”

“Probably.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But…”

Just then, Madame Pomfrey came bustling in.  “What happened?” she asked.

“He was trying to hold his animagus form long enough for me to try to determine why it’s unstable,” Professor McGonagall answered.  “It seems to have exhausted him.”

Madame Pomfrey muttered some incantations and nodded.  “Yes, it’s simple exhaustion.  Here,” she knelt down and opened a potion bottle.  “This will restore your energy.”  She poured the potion into his mouth, with him protesting, slightly.

Within seconds, Ianto felt as though lightning was shooting through his veins.  He sat up, suddenly wide awake.  “Wow,” he muttered.  “That’s…”

Neville was chuckling, as was Hagrid.  “Here, Nif,” he said, handing Ianto a pillow.

Ianto turned pink as he held the pillow in his lap to hide the bulge that had resulted from the sudden rush of blood to southerly regions.  Professor McGonagall was kind enough to pretend not to notice, but Madame Pomfrey simply said, “Perfectly natural response, no need to be embarrassed.”

Ianto turned a bit pinker and turned to Professor McGonagall, desperate for a subject change.  “What did you find?”

She hesitated.  “It seems that Firenze was correct.  Your magic is as strong as any I’ve seen, but it’s not anchored.”

“Why not?” Neville asked.

“Something happened, when he was young.”  She looked at Ianto, but his face was that blank mask.  “It caused his magic to come unmoored.  His time at Hogwarts re-anchored it, but it came unmoored again, with the _cruciatus_ curse.”

“What do you mean by unmoored, or unanchored?” Ianto asked, grateful she had glazed over most of that.

“It means you probably have a harder time controlling your magic, when you’re distraught.  I’ve never seen you with control issues, but that may be because you keep such a tight rein on it, in the first place.  It means that more power and control, and some higher magic, might come with more difficulty for you, because it isn’t anchored.”  She frowned.  “It means that you likely had to work twice as hard as everyone else to learn to cast spells like _expecto patronum_ , and I cannot even imagine the additional effort you must have expended, to become an animagus.”

“I’m not an animagus,” Ianto said sulkily.  “Doesn’t work, does it?”

Professor McGonagall reached out and gave Ianto’s hand a squeeze.  “I am convinced it’s not because of any shortcoming on your part, Mr. Jones.”

“Wait,” Neville said, picking up the book again.  “This also talks about the proper use of power.  Could it be a message?”

Professor McGonagall nodded.  “That is not unheard of.”

“So how do I anchor my magic?” Ianto asked, frowning.  He wanted full control of his magic, and he wanted it to be safe and rooted.

“There are some things we can try.  There is a small anchor already in place, but it’s less than two years old, and as I said, it’s very small.  It’s… a piece of the vortex, actually.”  She frowned.

Ianto nodded.  “Jack.”  At their questioning looks, he added, “The thing, with Lisa…” he knew they’d heard about it.  Neville because he’d still been an Auror and Hagrid and Professor McGonagall because they were in the Order.  “She… she threw me across the hub.  I…” he cleared his throat, not wanting to say it aloud.  “But Jack revived me.”

“Nif?” Neville had gone pale.  “You died?”

Ianto didn’t answer.  “Sometimes he can use the vortex energy inside of him to revive someone.  I was lucky.  Though at the time, I didn’t think so,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Professor McGonagall gave herself a shake, trying to overcome her shock.  “So…  This seems to confirm what Hagrid suggested.  Because your magic is not cohesive, your animagus is not stable.  It is likely meant to be something cougar-like, but more powerful.  And I have the impression that Hagrid recognized it, from the glimpse he got of it.”

“I wouldn’t want to say something, and it not be right,” Hagrid hedged.

“It’s all right, Hagrid.  We know it’s just a guess, at this point.  But it might prove useful,” she replied.

Hagrid looked uncomfortable.  “It looked to me an awful lot like a wampus cat,” he said.

“Hmmm,” Professor McGonagall was nodding.  “That would make sense.  All of the cougar qualities would still apply, but it’s a more powerful expression of those qualities.  An amplification, if you will.”

“And it makes sense, with the natural legilimency,” Neville was nodding, as well, as the pieces slotted together.

Ianto was the only one unwilling to see it.  “No.  That can’t be right.  You said yourself, Professor.  It’s almost never a magical creature.  There has to be another explanation.”

“Almost never is not the same as never, Mr. Jones.  And it doesn’t necessarily mean anything unusual,” she hedged.  For the cougar to be as fully formed as it was… the wampus cat pointed to a great deal of power that they had not yet seen Ianto Jones exhibit.  Although, there had been certain things that might be indicators.  His flying.  That mid-air apparition.  The ability to cast a fully corporeal patronus, at sixteen, despite his magic barely being anchored.  A high degree of control over his natural legilimency and occlumency skills.

“Firenze says it’ll get anchored, soon,” Hagrid said.

“Well, I think that is enough, for now,” Professor McGonagall said.  She needed to do some research, if they were to help this young man anchor and control his magic.

***

**Author's Note:**

> The qualities Neville reads about for the cougar are the symbolism associated with it as a spirit animal / totem.
> 
> Plus, cougars actually purr. So, you know... foregone conclusion. Had to do it.


End file.
